To Kill A Nation
by xXHetaliaxOtakuXx
Summary: Prince Arthur, the incarnation of Pride and the damned child of Satan, has no idea that a trip to the Land of the Living would uncover the hidden truth in the unsuspected lies of his past. The only way back to Hell, and the only way the retain his throne, is to kill a nation for their sins. How hard could it be for Satan's son to complete? How wrong Arthur was to ever think that...
1. Chapter I

Six months ago, Satan left the throne to his son, Arthur, while he decided to relieve himself by taking a vacation. Six months ago, Arthur found a portal, to where it would take him he hadn't the foggiest idea. The little devil practically jumped out of his skin once he saw it —which wouldn't be hard to do, after all he _is_ dead— and bolted over to investigate.

"How the bloody hell did _this_ get here?" He exclaimed, looking up and down and around the portal, his arrowed-tail swishing to and fro in excitement and confusion.

Anything remotely unusual was never a topic Arthur chose to think about. Though he was quite surprised and very curious as to why he found himself wondering what could be living on the other side of this Portal, and wanted answers. And he thought it would be easy enough, after all, he is the damned child of Satan and Prince of Hell. From the day of his sixteenth birthday, he had helped in ruling the Underworld beside his father.

Now twenty-three, and his father off on a thousand year holiday, he is managing fine. And when his greatness returns, Satan will hold a coronation for his son and Arthur would become the new King of Hell.

Even after the passing of two months, Arthur could barely concentrate on his lessons, or battle strategies. The portal was taking up almost all of his mental space, and the young regal didn't know how he could get rid of it all.

Arthur sighed, "I can bloody-well _see_ the portal that connects Hell to the 'Living World', but what goes on up there? Why is everyone so hush about them?" The young devil swished his tail, while his horned head bobbed as he walked across the volcanic tundra he called home. He so desperately wanted to know, that he would personally go to the Land of the Living _just_ to understand how on earth they lived.

Raking a pale hand through his hair as red as wine, the Brit thought deeper still. "What if there's a chap up there who looks like me? What if the the portal is the doorway to another dimension—" But Arthur's mulling came to a haltering stop when he was interrupted mid-speech by a maniacal, chortling laugh.

Arthur narrowed his eyes at the approaching devil, keeping his tone sickeningly-polite, "Well, if it isn't the Hero of Hell and my single adviser himself! What brings you to me, Alfred?"

Before long, Alfred's laughter had simmered-down to a humorless chuckle, before the older demon flicked his ebony bangs to the side. "I overheard your thoughts on the Land of the Living, Your Evilness. For the love of Satan, why would one of the Devil's Sins _and_ Satan's only son wish to learn about such a place?"

Trying to let Alfred's taunt slide off his back, Arthur straightened up and squared his shoulders. "Well, you heard me correct. I, who follows the teachings of my father, Satan, as the incarnation of Pride, order you to grant me access to the Land of the Living!"

Still keeping his confident demeanor up, yet his tone turned a little scared, if not horrified by Arthur's request. But Alfred still nodded in acceptance. "Very well. I, who follows the teachings of our sinful emperor, Satan, as the incarnation of Gluttony, accepts your wish. Come on, let's go to the royal meeting and we shall talk further on the subject with the other Allies."

Though he had held his tone somewhat light as well, Arthur noticed an unnatural stiffness that had consumed Alfred as they walked through the halls of the World Conference building. He had all the good reasons to. It was the truth that no one had spoke of the Land of the Living for more than two-hundred years, before Arthur was even born, for the imperial Satan and his Seven Deadly Sins had vowed not to speak of it or dire punishment would be the result of any demon who broke the pact. So Alfred had every reason to be scared of being sentenced a fate worse than death.

Upon opening the meeting-room door, the two demons were met with four other pairs of questioning eyes. Everyone was there, even Matthew was seated, not as transparent as he usually looked.

"Ah, if it izn't His Hellness, Prince Arthur! And your Advisor-slash-Captain of ze Guard, Sir Alfred. What are your excuses for being late _zis_ time, _mon amies_?" exclaimed Francis, the incarnation of Lust, who was gingerly sipping on expensive wine while eying the two late-comers.

"Get this," Alfred started, sounding more confident and fearless than he felt, while sticking his thumb in the direction of Arthur, "Prince Pride here says he wants to go to...the Land of the Living."

After a moment on shock to allow the truth to sink in, the room was in total uproar. Everyone was shouting, cursing, forgiving Satan for such words to escape. If it weren't for Yao's manipulative words that sent the whole room silent, the reaction of everyone in the room would of never ended.

"Now, now, everyone! We should give this a chance! I mean, when was the last time Old Man Satan dealt a punishment on us for speaking of such things, aru?" The wise, but smooth-talking Chinese demon cooed.

"Shut up, Greed! We all know your only intention is to manipulate and destroy those around you for wealth and other such Vices!" Muttered the incarnation of Envy, Matthew, but obviously no one really took his word seriously.

"Alright, that's enough! I'm only curious, that's all. Now will you tell me more or not?" Arthur pressed, head-set on getting his answer. After a long and heated convocation between the four nations, they agreed to tell him.

The tallest of the demons and the incarnation of Anger, Ivan, finally spoke as the convocation ceased to a background whisper, "Alright, we have come to an agreement. We will tell you all we know, but on one condition—"

But, being a stubborn little devil-prince, Arthur didn't care of the consequences. He just wanted exactly what he desired; and answer. "I don't bloody care about stupid conditions! What _could_ my own father do to me? I'm his legitimate son, he can't lay a _finger_ on me!"

Ivan was stunned for being interrupted so abruptly, but slowly started to smiled mercilessly, "Careful now, young Prince. Satan may be your father, but that doesn't mean he'll dish out special treatment for you. This is the Devil you are talking about, da?"

Arthur stared hard at the tall nation, suppressing a gulp. He straightened up and told Ivan to continue, but did not dare swallow his pride.

"And that one condition, that Satan himself made, stated you will be exiled from hell and set a task of killing a person —no, a _nation_— from the Land of the Living for their sins. Then, and _only_ then, would you be allowed back home. You can have as much time as you please, yet even Greater Demons like us can't survive for more than two months."

"But, in order to go, your horns must be cut short, and your tail, ears, wings and fangs _must_ be kept hidden at _all_ times. And you know _exactly_ what happens to demons zat escape to ze Land of ze Living without a proper disguise, don't you?" Francis chipped in, pouring another glass, locking his deadly serious gaze onto poor Arthur, who reached to his horns protectively. This time, he didn't bother hiding his fear.

Alfred saw this, and for half a moment, his expression showed his understanding. He knew the prince more than anyone else, more than his own father. He knew the dark secrets of the prince's past that Arthur didn't quite know of, the dark lies his father had told him...

"I will take responsibility over our Prince," Then he added with his goofy grin that not many had seen, "Dude, it's the hero's duty to defend his _princess_ at all costs..." Arthur knew Al would act like a smart-ass at some point, but the statement didn't cease to make him blush out of embarrassment. But a small, _atomically_ small part of him was blushing out of love. He just didn't know how much love he felt.

"Well then," Ivan said, "When would you like to go, Your Sinfulness?"

Arthur looked down. He had killed simple-minded humans before, but not a country. Suddenly, he felt the weight of Alfred's hand on his shoulder, his way and the _only_ way that he could talk to Arthur with his mind.

_"Don't worry, you don't have to go through with this if you don't want to. I'm here, Arthur, it's alright."_

Holding back a scream of delight at his touch, Arthur shivered. He _had_ to do this, he _wanted_ to do this. But he _couldn't_ let his feeling get in the way of his goals. Demons weren't supposed to have feelings, but incarnations of the seven Sins had them. That was one burden Arthur had to carry, whether he liked it or not.

Reluctantly and regrettably, he shook-off Alfred's grip and replied to Ivan, his stare inhumanly fierce.

"_Tonight_..."

And, for the rest of that day, Arthur secluded himself in his room, afraid to ever come out again. "Did I do the right thing? Is this the best for me?" he asked himself, though he'd never be able to give his own soul the answer. The young prince knew most demons didn't survive their first month on Earth, for they couldn't get used to the climate and air supply. Chewing his bottom lip, he could only wish that he'd return safely, and all in one piece.

The grandfather clock ticked, reminding Arthur his time to think about his decision was running thin, as the clock hands inched closer and closer to the twelve. He lay sprawled on his four-poster bed, the canopy stitched with the finest spider silk. He could hear the call of the portal waning on him, and locked-in his fate.

A short rap on the door startled Arthur, but he eased down as Alfred walked in.

"My Mercilessness? It's time to go, are you ready?"

Arthur abrubptly sat up, looking hurriedly at his advisor, but quickly tried to calm. Though Alfred's eyes were quicker. "My prince, you really don't have to do this. All you have to do is say the word and it will all be cancelled." He said with such sincerity, it would make any normal human trust him. But Arthur wasn't human, he knew that much.

Failing to meet his gaze, Alfred stepped closer until their faces weren't even two inches away from each other, "_Arthur_..." he said with a voice like honey, but the edge of his tone startled the prince. The soft spot he kept for Alfred enlarged, and Arthur found himself gazing up at Alfred, longingly.

Tension glinted in Alfred's eyes, as if he was controlling himself purposely. But that didn't stop him for long. Within a blink, Alfred had planted a butterfly kiss on the prince's cheek, yet the impact zone felt icily-cold and continued to send volts of electricity to his spine and butterflies to his stomach.

Alfred pulled away quickly, his composure and hard glare back. "It's an incantation I recently mastered, a courage charm. While the mark is invisible to the human eye, it will ward off any evil you meet and will keep you stronger if your powers run low." Alfred explained, not an ounce of softness in his tone. But Arthur wouldn't stop blushing. He almost felt a withdrawal coming on, he longed to let loose his passion and kiss Alfred back, but held himself back.

"Okay, I'm ready." The prince whispered, and hand in hand, Alfred whisked Arthur away to the Portal.

It didn't take long to get to the Portal, though the fear had already begun to eat at the prince's self-assurance. Growing up, he was usually an eye-witness when it came to Judgment Day. Every week, there was a day reserved for prisoners and sacrifices to receive their judgement, hence the name was chosen. Most of the time, they were just burned or branded, sometimes prisoners were tortured to death. But the worst punishment you could receive was getting your horns cut short, or cut off completely.

Demons without horns slowly became Silents, monstrous souls with nowhere to go, over several months. Your regenerative powers slowed to nothing and your body began to deteriorate, and if you couldn't be transmuted to a new body, you'd turn into a Silent. A demon's horns represented their originality, and in most cases, their power. Without it, just like humans without water, you'd die.

Arthur and Alfred stopped at the Chamber, where public executions and sacrifices were made. Yao was sharpening a large surgical saw, and once he caught the horrified eye of the young prince, he grinned evilly, showing off his blackening fangs.

"No need for that, Greed." Ivan placed a hand on the other man's shoulder, though his tone was everything but gentle. Yao scowled up at the taller devil, and went back to his work.

But Greed wasn't totally finished with his duty of making Arthur's life hell, pun intended. "Say, Gluttony, how much do _you_ think we should chop off, aru? I personally think the whole lot, it would defiantly bring out his _miserable_ eyes."

Alfred looked to Arthur, his face stricken with repulse and sudden tiredness he didn't notice before. He stared back at Yao, his expression murderous. Wrath and Lust rolled their eyes, as Ivan called Arthur to the examination table welded to the rusty-iron floor.

Arthur was trying his best to not retch at the thought of having his horns pulled out like teeth, though he knew well that wouldn't be the case so long as Alfred was around.

"So, just the horns cut short and nothing else, da?" It was more of a remark than a question, yet Arthur nodded in reply as he lay down on the hard, bloodstained torture-table. The young devil strained his eyes to see Yao hand over the sharp surgical saw to Ivan, before he felt a strange pressure on his chest and legs. He knew what they had done, and started to panic.

"Oh, just a safety precaution, _mon amie_. We don't want to be 'eld responsible for cutting right down ze middle of your 'ed if you so much as shuffle an inch out of order." Francis explained, without any comfort or pity in his voice for the prince. "Not like _I_ need it," Arthur thought stubbornly.

"Just bloody well get it over and done with." Arthur tried to keep most of the shakiness out of his voice, but was still punished with Greed and Lust's sly, psycho grins, as they secured short-chained cuffs to his ankles and wrists. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck prickle as Ivan drew guidelines on his precious horns that Arthur guaranteed he wouldn't follow. Horns grew back, right? He could never bring himself to ask such a stupid question, and he guessed it was too late now to sound like a coward.

He managed to close his eyes shut as a searing pain ripped through his whole body, like he was being sawed right down the middle. Arthur tried in vain to bite back a scream, and jammed his fangs into his bottom lip, until he tasted the irony, metallic taste of blood in his mouth. He could feel a slick wetness spill onto his scalp, more blood that sept into his hair, making a scarlet bordeaux-ichor mix. The young devil was starting to feel nauseated and light-headed, as another fiery slash of pain rumbled through his body like an earthquake. This time he didn't bother fighting the screams that tore out of his throat, and through the blurriness of all the held-back tears, he could make out Alfred's pain in the form of his creased brows and unreadable expression as hot, salty liquid ran down his cheeks like streams.

With a soft _'thud'_, Arthur heard something roll off the table, and his heart plummeted to his guts. One down, one to go. His tail trashed uncontrollably under the weight of his body, before Arthur wound it around his leg and squeezed, like a boa-constrictor, to try and distract himself from the worsening pain. At one point, he felt like breaking free of the leather and metal restraints, but knew he didn't have the strength, not after all the blood-loss. After a pain that felt like his vital organs had been ripped out of his body by force and had tried to be rearranged to make a diagram of a face, another soft _'thud' _ended the prince's angst.

An over-head mirror was pulled down from behind him and was positioned over his face, he could hear Ivan say something like, "It's done, take a look.", and was glad that he hadn't eaten anything beforehand. Black ichor ran down his face from his horn-stumps, and from his split-lip. All the color had been washed from his face, and he noticed that the lines under his eyes had grown worse, making him look way older than he was. "If only I had Greed's youthful looks," he though bitterly, "Though I'd end up looking even more sorry than this."

Yao picked up on the prince's horror and added flatly, "We'll cast a charm over your body so that you'll become one of the nations, if that's what your _so_ worried about." But Yao's eyes picked up on a small, spiraling rune just over the apple of Arthur's cheek and jeered, "Aiyah, looks like someone bet us to the punch..." The Chinese demon turned his head to Alfred, who simply gave him the cold shoulder and middle-finger. If Arthur's hands weren't bound, he'd punch Yao right into next Wednesday. But for now, he could only blush angrily.

"Never mind that, we need to send you and Alfred off tonight," Ivan said, and released Arthur before he called up Alfred, who treated it exactly like a doctor's check-up. Arthur could hardly stand the pain first-hand, so he excused himself and waited outside, not wanting to see be done from a third-person view. After five minutes of unprintable strings of curses, no screams or cries, Alfred retrieved the prince for the last step.

Arthur walked back inside with Alfred and was led deeper into the Chamber, to a room he'd never seen before. Inside, he saw a giant transmutation circle, used in alchemy and for this matter, charms. The two were told to stand in the middle of the circle, and the three other demons conducted the hardest charm of the night, the transfer charm.

It was so difficult because it was only effective against nations, so none of the Allied Sins knew what they'd turn out like, they could only rely on one tip, the nation a devil resemble the closest appearance-wise would become their temporary embodiment. Francis, the most experienced with charms second to Alfred, said the nation that Arthur was transmuted to had recently became sick, though Alfred's nation embodiment was still alive and very strong, so they simply made a similar copy of him for Alfred.

"Ze difference between ze two will lie in those which see." Was Francis's hint for telling the difference between the two, apart from a slight difference in their voices that Arthur wouldn't be able to notice. But Arthur was too tired to be worrying over riddles that made his head hurt just thinking about.

After a series of charms to make sure they'd stay alive throughout their stay, and certain tweaks to their outward behavior so they wouldn't look suspicious. Then, it was time to depart.

"We'll see the two of you again before you know it," Yao farewelled, almost pleasantly for once, before muttering something like "They're not coming back alive...", as he and Francis left Ivan to see the pair off.

"Now, you'll both be transferred over to the human world together, but there's a chance you might be separated. If that happens, wait until night and fly to the tallest building you see or whatever. Then figure a plan out between the two you to stay in each others sight without being to obvious. Now go." The Russian man pushed them into the Portal.

Through the rushing of air as he tumbled through space and time, he distantly heard Wrath shout a final warning, but neither Arthur or Alfred knew what he was saying. Too bad they were going to find out what he said the hard way.


	2. Chapter II

The muddy gravel greeted Arthur as his body fell into the human world with a thwack. Wincing, the devil prince-turned country brought a hand up to rub his throbbing head, but did a double take at what he saw.

It wasn't his hand that bothered him, but the clothes he wore. Arthur's eyes trailed from his sleeve until he stared down his front. Huh, an army uniform, perhaps? Raking a hand through his hair, he felt for his horn stumps and his chest grew heavy. Still gone. He brought his hand back and stared at a few loose hairs upon his thin fingers. Blond?

Frantically crawling unstably towards a nearby puddle, Arthur gaped down at his reflection. His hairstyle had stayed the same, but instead of the rich deep red he was so used to seeing, a mop of yellowish-blond hair had reclaimed his treasured locks. And his once captivating ruby-red eyes had turned to a dull green tone. Only then did Arthur take note of an uncomfortable sensation throbbing across his shoulder blades. His wings! I should give them a stretch, he thought.

After a moment of dithering over how to remove his new uniform, Arthur finally wrenched off his top layers and stretched his poor wings to their limits, releasing a contented sigh. With a few powerful flaps, Arthur levitated several inches off the ground. Before he got to wrapped up in the moment, Arthur realized what a stupid idea it was to be flying around in the human world and dropped gracefully to the ground and hurried to get his clothes back on. After finally tying his tie the right way, the prince took in his surrounding.

To his right stood a tall and square brick building, streams of ivy climbed up through the cracks in the mortar up to the roof. Tinted windows blurred whatever went on behind the lace-curtained windows. If he craned his neck, Arthur could see white smoke billowing out of the soot-blackened chimneys. Then to his left, a forrest filled with dark green, pointed trees spread far and wide. If Arthur pricked his ears, he could tune into all the birds, insects and mammals, and he could tell what was going on in the very heart of the gloomy forrest.

"Well, this must be that 'Great Britain' place, or whatever it's called. Funny, I don't see any giant red busses or a clock-tower anywhere... Where the others lying to me?" Arthur mused, "And surely there isn't any kind of entrance back here, I must investigate the front." Nodding to himself, Arthur strode out of the shadows and into the orangey sunset light, and drew in a breath.

Before him was a beautiful olden-styled mansion, with beige bricks and brown mortar keeping the structure together. The ivy stretched all around to the front of the building, weaving around the windows where boxes of orange and red pansies hung. The heavy wooden doors looked quite formidable, and the detailed carvings around their borders depicted a battle that time long forgot. While the young prince stood in awe for what seemed like an eternity, Arthur snapped out of it at the sound of the two doors opening. Within the blink of an eye, Arthur moved into a battle stance and trained his eyes on the intruder that stood in the doorway. When the figure emerged fully, Arthur did a double take.

Blond hair with a long fringe flicked to the side, ocean-blue eyes encircled by square-framed glasses, a leather bomber-jacket and a tan army uniform. Arthur was told that Alfred would be transformed into this country's look-alike, but he had never seen the country in person, so he had no idea how to tell the two apart. But the country in front of him looked like he had seen a ghost the minute he laid eyes on Arthur, so he couldn't possibly be Alfred in disguise. But there was a weird... tension in the air, like there was an invisible tether binding Arthur and the startled country together.

There was a long silence, before the country took a few weary steps down the doorsteps and onto the grassy ground, quite a few meters away from Arthur. There was a look of doubt in the country's blue eyes, and a horrible feeling filled Arthur's stomach. Maybe he can see my ears, the prince thought worryingly, or my tail! No, thats right. My tail is coiled around my leg, totally out of sight. Could it be my teeth? But surely he can't tell from that distance, right? My wings are folded back underneath my clothes, so why is he staring at me?!

Arthur dismissed his anxious thoughts and went to look back up at the country, but nearly yelped when he instead found the country embracing him, his fingers caressing Arthur's hair, a warmth next to his ear. "Britain... is that really you?" The country murmured, his voice husky and thick with a recognizable American accent.

Before he could stop and think, Arthur wrenched off the country's arms and pushed him to the ground, an angry and not-so-human growl resonated inside the prince's chest. White sparks of anger spotted Arthur's vision, chest heaving as he stared down the surprised and hurt American. Getting up and brushing himself off slowly, the country retained a distance of a meter away from Arthur and started talking again.

"Dude... It's me, America. Your ally, remember?" America stopped and slapped a palm to his forehead, "Damn, that's right, I forgot. Amnesia. From the accident." The country looked to the ground mournfully.

What amnesia? What accident? Those questions circled around inside poor Arthur's head as he tried to think of what to do next. All he could think to do was nod at the country.

"So you can't remember anything, huh? Not even..." But the country held his tongue and brought up something else, "So the doctor said you could leave the hostpital?" Arthur nodded again, and America let out a soft chuckle and stepped a few paces closer. Arthur froze, but the country only propped his hand on Arthur's shoulder, a warm smile glowing on his face, "It's okay, I'm not gonna bite your head off if you dare speak to me or anything..."

I can't say the same if you try to embrace me with your filthy hands again, you freak, Arthur thought bitterly, but retained a calm composure. America hummed, and snapped his fingers with his free hand, "I know, you're probably just tired. Come inside, we've got a spare bedroom upstairs."

"We?" Arthur croaked, surprised at his hoarse voice and cleared his throat, "I mean, we?"

America, who looked pleased at Arthur finally speaking, nodded, "Yeah, I'm not your only ally. There's the whole gang. The five of us make up the Allied Forces," America shook his head, "Sorry, I'm probably telling you too much. Come on, I'll re-introduce you to everyone tomorrow, okay?"

And with that, the country lead Arthur into the building, up the grand staircase and stopped at the third door in the right corridor, "Here we are. You'll find bedclothes and an extra uniform in the closet to your right, your's looks pretty wrecked," America said, pointing at Arthur's back, the material was coated with mud and gravel and was torn in someplaces. Arthur sighed in relief that there were no cuts on his body. Demon blood was usually black, but blood of a incarnation was a deep violet instead of red like human blood. He'd be spotted out instantly.

"Well, goodnight Britain. I'll see you tomorrow," America bided the prince goodnight, but lingered at the door. Arthur noticed the country's lips parted only slightly, as America looked from Arthur's eyes, to his cheeks and to his lips. Before Arthur could question what he was doing, America closed the door hurriedly and briskly walked away.

Suddenly, a pain encircled Arthur's heart, and felt a certain longing for something. Shaking the feeling away, Arthur stripped off the soiled clothes, rummaged around the closet for a pair of pajama pants that actually fit him, gave his wings one more well-deserved stretch and flopped onto the queen-sized bed, grateful that the comfortable mattress and bedding matched the standard of his own back in Hell.

Laying his head back on the feather down pillows, Arthur wondered how Alfred was fairing out in the world, and hoped he would find him soon. His heartache only grew as he thought of his adviser, and slowly descended into a rough sleep.

Alfred awoke, gasping heavily, right in the middle of a busy crossroad. Tall high rises lumbered over him, the brightly colored lights of the city district burning his eyes. Horns were beeping, people were shouting and screaming, Alfred heard the click of a gun being loaded and jumped up. Pain flushed through his head and he stumbled back down, knotting his hands through his hair.

His memory was patchy from that moment on and he could only remember snippets of that night. Red and blue lights flashing, the weight of the handcuffs securing his arms behind his back, a sour interrogation, and a terrible nightmarish sleep.

The next day, Alfred couldn't stop worrying over Arthur, his prince, as the coppers let him go that morning after they received a bail payment from an anonymous source. Alfred found the human world very strange, but was glad he was out of confinement. He predicted that he was somewhere in a built-up United States city, New York most likely. He knew it could take hours, days even, to find Arthur. And for all he knew, they could've been put in two different countries. All the thinking and no food was starting to weaken the demon, and he set off to find something to eat.

"Damn, these backstreets go on forever, like a great Labyrinth in Hell..."Alfred said to himself, as he walked past a windowed building, stopping at the last window abruptly. For the first time since he landed in the human world, Alfred looked at his reflection in awe. Locks of auburn-brown hair instead of ebony, his eyes the colour of blood instead of water. His horns were gone, and he had cast an invisibility charm on his giant wings and tail before he fell into the daunting world.

"Tan skin... That's new." Alfred thought dryly, "The whole atmosphere of this place is depressing. This can't be the true world... Did the damned portal drop me in another dimention?"

Alfred's racing thoughts were broken by a sweet, high-pitched song. The melody brought back memories from the past, memories from his past. Alfred whirled around, but there was nothing but dull brick walls. The song was getting louder and louder, the walls crept closer and closer. The air turned stale, and the devil slammed his hands over his ears, hissing and yowling in pain.

"My, my... Impressive doppelgänger..." A voice like silk chuckled, like someone he knew, "But your kind can't hide from the likes of me, poppet."

"That voice... Arthur? But he would not torture me, not his adviser," Alfred thought, but the pain was too much to bear, and his mind melted like butter as the devil lapsed into unconsciousness.


	3. Chapter III

Hazy, purple mist that smelt strongly of pachouli and lavender made Alfred's head throb, as the demon groggily awoke in an unfamiliar room. Realizing how blurry his surroundings were and that his glasses were gone, Alfred squinted into the darkness. A demon could see perfectly in darkness and would be able to magnify his vision to spy on its prey from the skies. But without his glasses, Alfred was as blind as a bat.

Tension at his wrists and ankles told Alfred he was bound to a chair, and thanked Lucifer that he wasn't in iron chains. Surprised by his lack of strength, the demon guessed something had happened when that peculiar voice started conversing with him. As he tried in vain to slip out of his bindings, an eery creak filled the room, followed by footsteps and a heavy thud. Someone had just walked in and was now pacing across to the other end of the room.

At the sound of a stick tapping the wall, the room burst into light. Candles were strewn all over the floor, on benches, on the walls and hanging from the ceiling. The mist turned out to be asphyxiating incense that billowed around the room in a bog-like fashion. Alfred turned his head around absently, trying to sense the being that had walked in. He thought he saw a shadow on the far wall, but it disappeared and instead a male figure stood in front of him. A bubbly voice gave a shrill laugh, and pulled something out of his vest pocket. Alfred could just make out a blurred pair of rectangular-framed glasses.

"Never have I ever come across a wretched demon who needed glasses to see. You must be insanely weak to have hindered vision and no defensive skills," The figure taunted, swinging the glasses around his index finger, "So that's why you're just a lowly adviser, hm?"

Alfred gritted his teeth against the pain in his head, and the figure only chuckled, "My happy gas seemed to have done the trick, and I've stripped you of your little disguise," A pale hand gripped Alfred's chin and forced his face close. He could feel a hot breath across his cheeks, and smelt... cupcake mixture, "Hmm, to be honest with you, poppet... I'm quite fond of your treacherous looks. Hair as black as death, yet pools of blue diamond for eyes. Oh, don't get me started on your horrid wings, and I'm sure your horns were just as revolting."

Finally finding his voice, Alfred wheezed out a few words, "Who... Who on Earth are you?"

Another tap, and a light above the figure brightened, and a man much younger than Alfred anticipated appeared. Clothed in purple velvet robes, with a head of messy-looking strawberry-blond hair. Even with his eyesight hindered, Alfred strained his eyes to focus enough to recognize a pair of blue eyes tinged with pink. Underneath the heavy robes, Alfred spotted a horrible pink vest over a white shirt.

"Oh, my dear. You aren't on the Earth you were told about. This is the mirror image of that world. The Other Color universe. Though some just refer to it as the 2P universe," The man chuckled again, and his grip tightened on Alfred, "But I do not reveal such personal information to the likes of you. Hmm, though maybe... you can persuade me over some tea and cupcakes."

With a snap of his wrist, a small table topped with an extravagant afternoon tea arrangement and a vacant chair appeared. The man seated himself and with another flick, reeled Alfred's chair closer. A tower of vivid cupcakes and a pot of minty-smelling tea were set before him. The other man's eyes glittered with excitement and malice, clapping his hands and giggling like a loon.

"Ooh, what should you choose to eat first? The one's with pink frosting will fill your tongue with live fire ants, the red velvet cupcakes will make you vomit non-stop, a tad messy for today, I just mopped the floors before your arrival- Oh, and the ones with the little flowers on it will kill you instantly, why did I even make those? Hardly any fun," The man grimaced as he picked up all the cupcake topped with the flowers and tossed them onto the floor, "Anyway, I won't spoil the rest. Just pick out one and I'll spoon-feed you like a baby~!"

Glowering, Alfred spat violet ichor onto the crisp white table-cloth. But the man didn't flinch or yell, he simply looked thoughtfully at the stain, sighed and brought out his wand, "Do I really have to make this hard? But I guess all naughty boys need a punishment." The man stated boredly.

Alfred didn't see the wand move, but suddenly his body fell into violent convulsions of pain. Alfred let out a blood-curdling scream, he knew what was happening. Iron burns, the worst burns a demon could recieve. Tears like acid rolled down his cheeks, intensifying the pain even more. The man sat there, doubled-over and laughing.

"Hahahahh... Okay, I think you've entertained me enough to get my name," The man wiped his eyes, and his shrill laughter settled down to a mere chuckle, "I'm Oliver Kirkland, the opposite of Britain. And I am _ever_ so pleased to meet you..."

"So... one more time from the top, please?" Arthur asked, rubbing his temple to rid an on-coming headache. America had roughly awoken the prince and presented him with four other members of the Allied Forces.

"Okey-dokey! So the tall, scary-looking one with the water pipe is Russia; the loud Asian that no-one can tell the gender to is China; the perverted alcoholic who smells of week-old cheese and stereotypes is France-" America stopped for a moment, his brows creased in thought "I'm sure there was someone else here with us... Uh, I think it started with a 'C'... Hmm, Canadia?"

"It's _Canada_, and I'm right here..." Said a disembodied voice, but none of the other countries or America seemed to notice.

The trio of newcomers smiled, and kept relatively friendly demeanors. Though France tried to use cheap pick-up lines on the prince, and China wouldn't stop arguing with Russia, who was gripping his pipe menacingly. Arthur saw a glimpse of a blond-haired country holding a polar-bear cub, but dismissed the thought and made a mental note to have his eyesight checked. All of these countries reminded him of the other incarnations back in Hell, and seemed to help calm the prince's nerves.

"Is it true, mon amie? You really cannot remember us?" France asked in a concerned tone, swirling around what wine was left in the bottom of his glass. Russia and China stopped fighting and looked at the prince with bated breath. The eagerness to know was making Arthur uncomfortable, but still he shook his head.

"...No, not a thing. Would you chaps mind telling me what happened?" Arthur asked, but didn't get answers. The countries just went quiet and looked away. America's face turned red and he picked up a book to hide his tears, not caring that it was upside-down. After a long silence only broken by sniffles coming from behind the book, China stepped in to speak.

"W-Well, I think we should let Britain sleep. He need's to recover, aru." And with that, China walked America to the door and the other countries followed in suit. The strange pain in Arthur's chest came back as America's sobs grew louder outside his room. Trying to block out the noise, Arthur distracted himself with the task of putting his uniform on.

He started with the pants and then slipped on his boots. He was about to pull on a white singlet when America emerged back into the room, obviously to return the book. Arthur gasped and was ready to yell at the country for not knocking first, but couldn't bring himself to do it when he saw America's face. His eyes were swollen and blood-shot, straggly bits of blond hair were sticking up out of place and his lip still looked like it was quivering. Yet when America made eye contact with Arthur, he cracked another goofy smile and walked over. Arthur tried to step back, but bumped into the chest of drawers behind him.

"I'm sorry for the break-down earlier, dude. It's just a hard thing for us all to think of... And it's probably best if you don't know for a while, okay?" America looked down at Arthur's stomach, and the prince went to cover himself, but thought better of it. Humans and countries couldn't see incantations and marks that riddled his abdomen, torso and back.

Instead, Arthur looked around the room, feeling the blood rush to his face until America picked up the white singlet off the floor and smirked, "Having trouble dressing? You're always like this when you're sick. But it's fine, I'll help you." And rather than push him away this time, Arthur played along. He thought as if he should get more friendly with him, after all, any of the country's could be his target. Wrath said that he'd send a fire message on the next waning crescent with information on who to kill, so that means he still still has a week and a half to get to know each of the countries' weaknesses.

In no time, America had draped Arthur's white shirt over him, tied his tie and fastened his green jacket around him with a black belt. The two stood in silence, not looking at each other. Suddenly, America's stomach growled which seemed to set off a lightbulb inside the country's head, "Ah, we haven't had breakfast yet. Come on, let's go downstairs and get some grub."

That gave Arthur an idea. He grabbed America's arm and said, "May I cook breakfast?" The prince knew this way he'd be able to get all their trust. But instead of agreeing, America turned as white as a ghost and looked around sheepishly.

"Ah, n-no... Really, I'm sure France could- You see, I don't know if you can remember or not but... Your cooking sucks, dude."

Arthur gasped. Back in Hell's castle, the prince always loved watching the chefs cook. He'd march into the kitchen and order what he wanted when he was young, and he forced the chefs to teach him the process of every dish. As he grew up, he started helping out the chefs and was soon at par with the greatest cooks in the kingdom. He realized that the country he was disguised as probably was so horrible that he could burn water, but couldn't control his anger.

"I beg your pardon, my cooking is the bloody best! I'll show you, take me to the kitchen right now!" The prince bellowed, and America gave a small squeak and walked out the door with Arthur, a 'please have mercy' look on his face.

So down the stairs they went and after two left turns and a sharp right, Arthur saw the all countries seated at a table in the middle of the room. Behind them was another door, Arthur suspected it lead to the kitchen. America shakely explained what the prince wanted to do and in turn the countries gave the same scared look and begged under their breath as the prince walked through the door.

A pristine chrome kitchen unlike the rest of the old-fashion building was filled with state-of-the-art equipment. Arthur pondered over how to convert what he knew into something simple. He resorted to pancakes and set to work. A little while later, as he spooned some of the mixture into a pan, it hit the prince that he couldn't eat human food. _What the hell am I going to do,_ he thought, _I could die if I eat this stuff and I have no way of making it safe. _

But that's when he remembered another thing that Wrath said:_ "If you find yourself hungry, and you only have human food to eat, charm the food you are given with this. It is one of the main compounds in demon food, you only need a few grains to make one standard meal safe. I shall send it with you, and you can find it no matter where you are by saying its name..."_

Arthur breathed in deep and whispered, "_Keras ab Lucifer..._" A small vile of what looked like black sugar appeared on the table. Horn of the Devil, that's what they call it in Hell. It's the powdered horn of a sacrificial ram, dyed with demon ichor. Without this, demons wouldn't exist. Ninety-percent of all powdered horn is made by the horns of any executed demon. It was very rare to get ram horns as there are almost no more Devil worshippers on Earth.

"As long as the others don't eat anything with this in it," Arthur said to himself, charming one platefull of pancakes with the powder, "Then I won't be found out."

The door burst open and Arthur stepped out with enough pancakes for everyone. He set down one at each placemat, careful to keep the charmed one for himself. Everyone was in shock, obviously they were expecting something burnt.

"Well, don't just stare at your plates, dig in!" Said the prince, and the countries each took a bite, and most of them yelped out of joy.

There were exclamations of, "This is amazing, I knew you had it in you, dude!" and "Aiyah, you must've forgotten how to cook badly if this is what you're capable of." Russia was chewing happily next to a polar bear (again, Arthur reminded himself to not question it being there) and France was already asking for a second plate and a cook-off.

...

"Hmm, interesting..." Oliver murmured behind his crystal ball, watching the countries of the 1P Universe. The man turned to look at Alfred, who chose the chocolate cupcake, had collapsed into a deep sleep filled with nightmares. Oliver wished he could see what was so frightening, but found enough enjoyment in watching the demon toss and turn, an aghast expression frozen on his face.


End file.
